Rejected!
by Runnel
Summary: A series of one shots chronicling the moments that each member of the Host Club realizes they are in love with Haruhi, and the exact moments they are rejected. Chapter 2: Mori.
1. Kyoya, or The Play

Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran High School Host Club. If I did, it would be called 'The Nekozawa Chronicles' instead.

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Kyoya has always kept immaculate records. His little black book is filled with notes about clients, hosts, budgets, damages, and debt – more specifically Haruhi's debt. Each little column had amounts tallied at the bottom, and notes next to every addition to the arrears, and every reduction. Most of the latter were pitiful; two hundred, maybe three hundred, and every so often a larger like seven thousand. The large ones were from the numerous auctions that sold things like the Host Club's pens and china. As a Host, she technically got a cut of the proceedings. The notes beside those numbers said things like 'mechanical pencil' and 'spoon'.

The small ones, though, were rather odd. They were quite regular – one or two each Host Club meeting. And it was only when Kyoya was tallying the debt at the end of the month that he noticed them. They hadn't been there before last month. The troubling thing was the note he had next to each reduction. 'A smile' was the most common. Next was 'A laugh', and third was 'cosplay day - cute'. He stared at the neat rows and columns for a very long time. He only vaguely remembered writing the odd subtractions; he was the only one who could have gotten to his book, but only Tamaki would have written something so stupid and ditzy, and he knew the King's handwriting.

Even his superior brain and amazing talent could not crack this mystery. Why were they there? Why had _he, _Ootori Kyoya, written in 'cosplay day – cute'?

It was at that moment he realized he was in love.

He almost fainted at the mere thought.

…………………………………………………………….

He decided a few weeks after his startling revelation that he no longer wanted to marry for traditional power. He wanted the power of love more than that. And he wanted to win her fairly – which was even more of a surprise.

Fujioka Haruhi was to be his wife – even if he had to kill Tamaki to make that happen.

So, in the great and longstanding tradition of the dramatic Host Club, Kyoya pulled her away from the rest one day, under the pretense of discussing her debt. He had prepared for this for several hours, and already had his speech memorized. He had had to make it very blunt, in order to make sure she would get the message, but it was all in there. He took a deep breath, and –

"Okay, so how much do I have left?" she asked, ready to go home after a bad day, and not in the mood to discuss her outrageous debt to a calculating, rich, annoying _host._

Kyoya began.

And ended. The middle sounded something like 'I love you.'

Haruhi blinked, and turned a beautiful shade of red – like the roses Tamaki was fond of, and the strawberries Hunny had just imported from Europe.

"Um, sempai, were you practicing for a play or something? Because it sounds really fun. Really good. Had me fooled for a minute there. Sorry, I have to go, see you tomorrow, tell everyone bye for me."

It was then Kyoya knew he was never going to have Haruhi.

It was also then that he realized that Tamaki was standing right behind him.

"That…" Tamaki sniffled "…was so beautiful!" he gave Kyoya a giant hug, sobbing into his uniform. He rolled his eyes.

_Oh well, _he thought, _at least I know I'll always have Tamaki. _

A shudder passed through his very soul at the thought_. Always Tamaki_.

It was then that he realized he might just go insane.


	2. Mori, or The Letter

Chapter 2 – Mori's Rejection, or The Letter

--- --- --- ---

Mori had always been one of those people who knows their own mind. Discovering that he was in love with Haruhi had been no surprise. He knew he was jealous whenever the twins hugged her, or when Tamaki talked to her so freely. He also knew he was rather tongue-tied when it came to the sensitive subject of everyone's favorite cross-dresser. Really, it had been like putting two and two together. He was in love.

The last piece of the puzzle, however, had come at an unexpected time. It was a rather ordinary club day – the birds were singing, the cherry blossoms were blooming, and the club members (Tamaki and the twins, sometimes joined by Mitsukuni) were wailing on about the tragedy of Haruhi's life – specifically how she had never been outside the country. Mori, on the other hand, was staring out the window to the courtyard, and puzzling over some quandary or another - he couldn't even remember what it was. It wasn't important anyway. The tall, dark, and handsome senior only gave the squabble a passing glance, and promptly tuned it out; only slightly aware of the world around him in case Mitsukuni needed anything. But then she brought him cookies and tea.

It was such an unthinking act of kindness that awakened his full emotion. He hadn't even noticed her approach. But she lightly tapped his shoulder, smiled (Mori had always thought that her smile could bring even Kyoya back from the dark side) and offered him a pretty plate full of Hunny's snacks. They were very good cookies.

The only problem that remained in his mind was how to express his depth of feeling.

So he wrote her a letter – it was the gentlemanly thing to do. He wasn't a romantic like Tamaki, or as dramatic as the twins. It was the quiet way to get her attention.

_You are the only one for me._

And other quite touching phrases were spattered throughout the letter, but oddly enough, did not mention her name specifically once.

Oh, and he knew she had turned down Kyoya, and so many other boys in her day, but maybe, just maybe, he could be the first 'yes.'

--- --- --- ---

It was the end of the day, all the customers had left, and Mori, Hunny, and Haruhi were left to clean up. His heart was pounding – how would she react? Would she say no? He had never been so nervous in his life. Hunny left the room discreetly, they had already discussed this, and decided it would be best if Mitsukuni wasn't there.

"Haruhi." He said, simple was the best, wasn't it?

"Yes?" She turned around. Only years of hard training kept a blush from his face. He handed her the letter – surely that would explain it all.

She looked questioningly at him, holding it up for examination. She opened the letter, and without further comment began to read.

It was the most terrifying three minutes of his life. He would sweat this out, and see how she responded. It was harder than yelling at Mitsukuni, to wait.

The thing about Haruhi that captured so many men's hearts was her eyes. They entranced you, and you couldn't look away. She stared straight at the tall kendo champion, searching for the truth of the matter in his own eyes.

"Its very sweet." The unspoken 'but' radiated inside the entire room.

It was, perhaps, the most awkward silence to every descend upon the world.

"But you forgot a comma, see, right here." It was if an invisible knife had just stabbed him straight through the heart. She came over to his side so he could look at it with her, and calmly pointed out his grammatical errors.

"The girl who's gonna get this is really lucky. Thanks for letting me proofread it, it's really pretty, but I have to go – I'm making sushi for my dad tonight." The girl of his dreams gave him the letter, waved goodbye, grabbed her bags, and was gone.

Now, it was if the hypothetical invisible knife had not only stabbed him straight through the heart, but also cut it out and fed it to Kyoya for dinner. It was not a pleasant feeling.

"…"

There was only silence, except for the ripping of a letter and Mori's footsteps as he left the Third Music Room.

He wondered absently if she would have got it if he hadn't forgotten that comma.

* * *

Mori got…

REJECTED!

Sorry, couldn't resist. ^^;

Reviewers are the most wonderful people in the entire world – and I mean that. Y'all are so nice; it brings a tear to my eye.

Me + Mori's POV = fail. So I appreciate all constructive criticism and reviews are the best. Thanks kindly,

~Runnel


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